3 times Sherlock wielded a katana and one time he got stabbed by one
by Fizz the Great
Summary: title explains it all. Since everyone's doing one, I wonder, why not try out one myself. T to be safe. Humor. Special thanks to 2lieutenant for being my amazing Beta! (- Editor, apparently editors on fanfic are called betas)


**3 times Sherlock wielded a katana and one time he got stabbed by one**

 **Everybody's writing these type of stories so I try out one. Enjoy~**

Sherlock pulled out the body underneath his chair as soon as John left. The man was still unconscious and Sherlock debated whether he should drag the man outside or just push him out the window. After all, there are several trash bags to cushion the fall. He decided on the latter.

But not before taking the man's sword and stowing it safely away in his closet.

1.

"Sherlock, what the hell are you holding?"

Sherlock turned sharply from his position to face the voice. "You're home early."

John nodded to the sword in his flatmate's hand. "Why are you holding a sword?"

"It's an experiment," Sherlock said and tried to shield himself away from John.

"Where did you get it?"

Sherlock's eyes traveled around the room before settling on him. "It was… a case,"

Knowing that it wasn't all of it and that Sherlock wasn't planning to explain more, John decided to move on. "So… what is it you're going to experiment with?"

Sherlock looked up at John as if that question has never hit him before. "Obviously, test the sharpness of it first," he quickly said.

"And how are you going to do that?"

Sherlock reaction made John wish he didn't say that.

"No Sherlock!"

Sherlock stopped in mid-swing. "John?"

John sighed. It was like explaining to a 5 year-old. "Sherlock, if you slash at Mrs. Hudson's wall she'll never forgive you."

"I wasn't going to 'slash at the wall,'" Sherlock said. Before John could stop him, he sliced the calendar hanging on the wall clean in a half.

John blinked, surprised at his flatmate's unknown sword skills. "How…" he glanced over the chair to see Sherlock's laptop open. "Are you watching a Youtube video?!"

Sherlock growled and walked over to slap his laptop shut; but not before John getting a glance at what was playing.

"'Beginner's tutorial on wielding a katana,'" John smirked at Sherlock's fuming face.

"Stop invading my privacy."

John held out his hands. "Okay, okay, feel free to do whatever you want with that sword."

And Sherlock did.

2.

Molly wasn't having a good day, but not many days had been going very well, so today just felt like any other not-so-good days. Her heart, however, did a double jump that morning when she opened to door to find an open-shirt detective with a long sword raised, preparing to slice the apple resting on the table in half.

"Sher-sherlock, what are you doing?" Molly managed to say without looking too flustered. Did he really have to leave his shirt open like that?

Sherlock whipped around and Molly tried her best to stop her face from burning. Her hands shot up by instinct to cover her eyes. A childish thing to do and she immediately regretted it when Sherlock caught the motion and moved on to button up his dress shirt.

"Practicing," He answered. Molly almost forgotten that she had asked him a question. She was too busy trying to re-image Sherlock with his shirt open.

"Ah, right." She said softly, face still burning. "I'll just, um," she gestured at the cabinet files and Sherlock moved so that she could pass by. She tensed up when she got near him, so close she could see the beads of sweat gathering at his forehead and his still slightly opened shirt, that she didn't know she has stopped breathing until she exited the room.

But before leaving the room, she remembered catching sight of what was on the phone laying near the detective. A YouTube tutorial on katana wielding. Not something you'd see on a bad day, she guessed.

3.

He really hadn't planned this. Even if it might have looked like he knew what he was doing, he was actually just acting on instinct.

His eyes widened at the incoming blade and quickly ducked before the sword could slice him in a half. This was really a bad idea. Not only storming into the enemy base armed only with a sword, he was also left with a late backup.

He step-sided and managed to get a swing at the cloaked man before having the need to duck again. Their swords clashed and locked. For a moment, there was a second of unease where both of them didn't know what to do. They stared at each other, quite speechless at this situation. Remembering the recent tutorial he just watched, Sherlock flicked his sword side-ways, sending the other man's sword flying off into space.

The man was shocked for a moment as he realized he was just beaten by a katana wielding British man and his eyes widened briefly before he reached for something in his pocket. Sherlock dove behind the stack of crates just as the man fired three shots at where he was standing seconds ago.

 _'Really? A gun?'_ He glanced over the crates to see the man running off. He should've stolen John's gun when he had the chance. He got up from the crates and started chasing the man. The man looked back and shouted something in an unknown language. Sherlock didn't bother to find out what it was. He was too busy aiming at the man.

The sword flew smoothly and buried itself in the man's cloak. The man swore, loudly this time. He tried to remove the sword but the handle was too far for him to reach and stuck in too deep to pull out. He looked fearfully at the towering British man before him and gulped.

Two minutes later, Lestrade finds the man pinned to the wall by a katana and Sherlock standing nearby looking at his phone.

"How… how did you-"

Sherlock looked up from his phone and Lestrade's words faded. "Nevermind, take your sword."

The young detective eyed the Inspector before pulling his sword out of the wall and leaving. Lestrade watched him silently go, the katana glinting in his hand.

'Since when did Sherlock started watching Youtube tutorials?' Lestrade wondered as he cuffed the man.

4.

Sherlock has never been wrong. It rarely happens and when it does, he usually finds a way out of it.

He has calculated this wrong.

His vision darkens for a brief moment before he resurfaces again. His feels his sword clatter to the ground but he doesn't hear it. It's like his ears are stuffed with cotton. Or as if he's underwater.

He backs away, not sure what to do. He has to stop the red from spreading—God, how is he going to wash this?—but he doesn't know how. His hands hover near the red. They're shaking. They haven't shook for a long time, at least not after he stopped taking drugs. He's barely aware of the fading footsteps of the other man. Instead, he's more interested in the dark shade of red still expanding on his shirt. He hits the floor but everything feels numb. It doesn't hurt, nothing hurts and his vision is tediously gray. There's red. A bit too much red for Sherlock's liking as he watches the spot in his shirt grow bigger every second.

 _'Huh,'_ he presses his hands to the spot but it barely stops the spreading. ' _I've calculated this wrong.'_

A sudden overwhelming of realization hits him like a wave. He's dying. Because someone stabbed him with a katana. Maybe he really should've just brought a gun rather than accepting the man's challenge of a sword fight. After all, it is the other man who deserves a death sentence, not him.

Not here, not in this place, dying by a katana wound.

 _'John…'_ he turns and tries to wriggle his phone out with no avail. Maybe he'll just stop here. He's too tried anyway to do anything now.

Someone slaps him on the face. He ignores it for the first time but they kept on slapping his face so many times he was forced to open them.

"You're not doing this to me Sherlock bloody Holmes."

He blinks at the voice. "Jh'n…"

"No, it's Lestrade. I saw you stalking off with a katana today and I knew you were up to no good. Swords are very hard to hide and their damage is even worse. Now stay awake before I have to slap you again."

"Le-lestrade?" Sherlock shifts his head in pain. He must have cried out because the Inspector quickly put his hand reassuringly on his head, steadying him.

"Shh, it's okay, the ambulance is on the way." He has his hand pressed tightly to the wound. Sherlock was too numb to notice. After all, he is very cold.

"Ls'trd-I got stab,"

"Yes, I know. You're bleeding a lot."

"B-by a katana,"

"The ambulance is on its way."

"No, y-you need to know."

"Yes?"

"It was a katana."

"Yes, I know. The Japanese sword, Sherlock, I saw what you were watching after last time's case. YouTube tutorials for katanas,"

Sherlock's mouth turns down into a frown. "Why does everybody say that…"

He starts to drift off again—the ground's so cold—but he receives a hard slap to the face.

"Sherlock you absolute idiot. I can't believe you went in like that. I don't want you sleeping again ok? Stay awake, the ambulance is almost here."

"M' fine." The room is really starting to dim now. Sleep feels so welcoming, an escape from the cold hard ground and numbness. He's so tired. It's been a while since he has slept.

"Sherlock? Sherlock!" The voice seems to fade. Everything grows dark. He can no longer feel the poking and nagging of the Detective Inspector. The darkness is comforting. It lures him in. So Sherlock Holmes falls asleep.

 **Bye bye~**


End file.
